FENCE OF IDENTITY: I had an uncharacteristically empty day today, in terms of my schedule. Which got me thinking about my time spent in Kosovo and how I should reflect back on all of the things that people have told me about the war in 1998 and 1999. To tell you the truth I feel incredibly privileged being in the position that I am in. The majority of people here cannot travel and have been restricted by outside authorities for the last twenty years. The conflict in 1998 and 1999 was a culmination of the tension that had built up since then and an attempt to gain independence (only finally achieved in 2008). Friends have told me about the bombs going off, the frantic movements of families from one house to another. They told me their stories with a mixture of remorse and excitement. What I find most interesting is that you could never tell that these people have been affected by something like that, at least the people my age, in their early twenties ,who saw the conflict first hand as children. Instead of posting ruins, I decided to post this, one of the first things that I saw in Pristina, a fence outside the Kosovo Parliament Building that has pictures of missing people hung up on it. Even now, more than twelve years after the conflict it still stands just outside the centre of town. This image featuring a  boy passing by the fence is an honest representation of how many photos still stand. It’s sad but it makes you think about how devastating losing someone, be it a family member or friend can be. So this is my dedication of sorts to what I have learnt about the war, all the people who died and suffered from the conflict and lastly the people who no one knows about. It’s that lack of information that is the hardest to deal with.

FENCE OF IDENTITY: I had an uncharacteristically empty day today, in terms of my schedule. Which got me thinking about my time spent in Kosovo and how I should reflect back on all of the things that people have told me about the war in 1998 and 1999. To tell you the truth I feel incredibly privileged being in the position that I am in. The majority of people here cannot travel and have been restricted by outside authorities for the last twenty years. The conflict in 1998 and 1999 was a culmination of the tension that had built up since then and an attempt to gain independence (only finally achieved in 2008). Friends have told me about the bombs going off, the frantic movements of families from one house to another. They told me their stories with a mixture of remorse and excitement. What I find most interesting is that you could never tell that these people have been affected by something like that, at least the people my age, in their early twenties ,who saw the conflict first hand as children. Instead of posting ruins, I decided to post this, one of the first things that I saw in Pristina, a fence outside the Kosovo Parliament Building that has pictures of missing people hung up on it. Even now, more than twelve years after the conflict it still stands just outside the centre of town. This image featuring a ¬†boy passing by the fence is an honest representation of how many photos still stand. It’s sad but it makes you think about how devastating losing someone, be it a family member or friend can be. So this is my dedication of sorts to what I have learnt about the war, all the people who died and suffered from the conflict and lastly the people who no one knows about. It’s that lack of information that is the hardest to deal with.

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